128. Chevy Chase. Quiller-Couch, Arthur, ed. 1910. The Oxford Book of Ballads

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Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (1863–1944). The Oxford Book of Ballads. 1910.

128. Chevy Chase

Fytte I

I

THE PERCY out of Northumberland,

An avow to God made he

That he would hunt in the mountains

Of Cheviot within days three,

In the maugre of doughty Douglas,

And all that e’er with him be.

The fattest harts in all Cheviot

He would kill and carry away.—

‘By my faith,’ said the doughty Douglas again,

‘I will let that hunting if I may!’

III

Then the Percy out of Banborowe came,

With him a mighty meinye,

With fifteen hundred archers bold

Chosen out of shirès three.

This began on a Monday at morn,

In Cheviot the hills so hye;

The child may rue that is unborn,

It was the more pitye.

The drivers through the woodès went

[All] for to raise the deer,

Bowmen bicker’d upon the bent

With their broad arrows clear.

Then the wild thoro’ the woodès went

On every sidè shear;

Grayhounds thoro’ the grevès glent

For to kill their deer.

VII

This began on Cheviot the hills abune

Early on a Monenday;

By that it drew to the hour of noon

A hundred fat harts dead there lay.

VIII

They blew a mort upon the bent,

They ’sembled on sidès shear;

To the quarry then the Percy went

To the brittling of the deer.

He said, ‘It was the Douglas’ promise

This day to meet me here;

But I wist he would fail, verament!’

—A great oath the Percy sware.

At the last a squire of Northumberland

Lookèd at his hand full nigh;

He was ware o’ the doughty Douglas coming,

With him a great meinye.

Both with speär, bill and brand,—

’Twas a mighty sight to see;

Hardier men both of heart nor hand

Were not in Christiantè.

XII

They were twenty hundred spearmen good,

Withouten any fail:

They were born along by the water o’ Tweed

I’ the boun’s o’ Teviotdale.

XIII

‘Leave off the brittling of deer,’ he said;

‘To your bows look ye take good heed,

For sith ye were on your mothers born

Had ye never so mickle need.’

XIV

The doughty Douglas on a steed

Rode all his men beforn;

His armour glitter’d as did a gleed,

Bolder bairn was never born.

‘Tell me whose men ye are,’ he says,

‘Or whose men that ye be;

Who gave you leave in this Cheviot chase

In the spite of mine and of me?’

XVI

The first man that him answer made

It was the good Lord Percye:

We will not tell thee whose men we are,

Nor whose men that we be;

But we will hunt here in this chase

In the spite of thine and of thee.

XVII

‘The fattest harts in all Cheviot

We have kill’d, to carry away.’—

‘By my troth,’ said the doughty Douglas again,

‘The one of us dies this day.

XVIII

‘[Yet] to kill allè these guiltless men

Alas, it were great pitye!

But, Percy, thou art a lord of land,

I an earl in my countrye—

Let all our men on a party stand,

And do battle of thee and me!’

XIX

‘Christ’s curse on his crown,’ said the lord Percye,

‘Whosoever thereto says nay!

By my troth, thou doughty Douglas,’ he says,

‘Thou shalt never see that day—

—‘Neither in England, Scotland nor France,

Nor for no man of woman born,

But, that (and fortune be my chance)

I dare meet him, one man for one.’

XXI

Then bespake a squire of Northumberland,

Richard Witherington was his name;

‘It shall never be told in South England

To King Harry the Fourth for shame.

XXII

‘I wot you bin great lordès two,

I am a poor squire of land;

[Yet] I’ll ne’er see my captain fight on a field

And stand myself and look on.

But while that I may my weapon wield

I’ll not fail, both heart and hand.’

XXIII

That day, that day, that dreadful day!—

The first fytte here I find:

An you’ll hear any more o’ the hunting of Cheviot,

Yet there is more behind.

100

Fytte II

XXIV

The Englishmen had their bows y-bent,

Their hearts were good enow;

The first of arrows that they shot off

Seven score spearmen they slew.

XXV

Yet bides the Earl Douglas upon the bent,

105

A captain good enoghe;

And that was seenè verament,

For he wrought them both woe and wouche.

XXVI

The Douglas parted his host in three,

Like a chief chieftain of pride;

110

With surè spears of mighty tree

They came in on every side;

XXVII

—Throughè our English archery

Gave many a woond full wide;

Many a doughty they gar’d to dye,

115

Which gainèd them no pride.

XXVIII

The Englishmen let their bowès be,

And pull’d out brands that were bright;

It was a heavy sight to see

Bright swords on basnets light.

120

XXIX

Thoro’ rich mail and manoplie

Many stern they struck down straight;

Many a freyke that was full free

There under foot did light.

XXX

At last the Douglas and the Percy met,

125

Like to captains of might and of main;

They swapt together till they both swat

With swordès of fine Milan.

XXXI

These worthy freykès for to fight

Thereto they were full fain,

130

Till the blood out of their basnets sprent

As ever did hail or rain.

XXXII

‘Yield thee, Percy,’ said the Douglas,

‘And i’ faith I shall thee bring

Where thou shalt have an Earl’s wages

135

Of Jamie our Scottish king.

XXXIII

‘Thou shaltè have thy ransom free,

—I hight thee here this thing;

For the manfullest man thou art that e’er

I conquer’d in field fighting.’

140

XXXIV

But ‘Nay’, then said the lord Percye,

‘I told it thee beforn

That I would never yielded be

To man of a woman born.’

XXXV

With that an arrow came hastily

145

Forth of a mighty wane;

And it hath stricken the Earl Douglas

In at the breastè-bane.

XXXVI

Thoro’ liver and lungès both

The sharp arròw is gone,

150

That never after in his life-days

He spake mo words but one:

’Twas, ‘Fight ye, my merry men, whiles ye may,

For my life-days bin gone!’

XXXVII

The Percy leanèd on his brand

155

And saw the Douglas dee;

He took the dead man by the hand,

And said, ‘Woe is me for thee!

XXXVIII

‘To have sav’d thy life I’d have parted with

My lands for yearès three,

160

For a better man of heart nor of hand

Was not in the north countrye.’

XXXIX

[All this there saw] a Scottish knight,

Sir Hugh the Montgomerye:

When he saw Douglas to the death was dight,

165

Through a hundred archerye

He never stint nor he never blint

Till he came to the lord Percye.

He set upon the lord Percy

A dint that was full sore;

170

With a surè spear of a mighty tree

Thro’ the body him he bore,

O’ the t’other side that a man might see

A large cloth-yard and more.

XLI

An archer of Northumberland

175

Saw slain was the lord Percye:

He bare a bent bow in his hand,

Was made of a trusty tree.

XLII

An arrow that was a cloth-yard long

To the hard steel halèd he,

180

A dint that was both sad and sair

He set on Montgomerye.

XLIII

The dint it was both sad and sair

That he on Montgomerye set;

The swan-feathers that his arrow bare

185

With his heart-blood they were wet.

XLIV

There was never a freykè one foot would flee,

But still in stoure did stand;

Hewing on each other, while they might dree,

With many a baleful brand.

190

XLV

This battle began in Cheviot

An hour before the noon,

And when the even-song bell was rung

The battle was not half done.

XLVI

They took [their stand] on either hand

195

By the [lee] light of the moon;

Many had no strength for to stand

In Cheviot the hills abune.

XLVII

Of fifteen hundred archers of England

Went away but seventy-and-three;

200

Of twenty hundred spearmen of Scotland

But even five-and-fifty.

XLVIII

There was slain with the bold Percye

Sir John of Agerstoune,

Sir Roger, the hendè Hartley,

205

Sir William, the bold Herone.

XLIX

Sir George, the worthy Loumlye,

A knight of great renown,

Sir Ralph, the richè Rabye,

With dints were beaten down.

210

For Witherington my heart was woe

That ever he slain should be:

For when both his legs were hewn in two

Yet he kneel’d and fought on his knee.

There was slayn with the doughty Douglas

215

Sir Hugh the Montgomerye,

Sir Davy Lambwell, that worthy was,

His sister’s son was he.

LII

Sir Charles a Murray in that place,

That never a foot would flee:

220

Sir Hew Maxwell, a lord he was,

With the Douglas did he dee.

LIII

So on the morrow they made them biers

Of birch and hazel so gray;

Many widows with weeping tears

225

Came to fetch their makes away.

LIV

Teviotdale may carp of care,

Northumberland may make moan,

For two such captains as slain were there

On the March-parts shall never be none.

230

Word is come to Edinboro’,

To Jamie the Scottish King,

Earl Douglas, lieutenant of the Marches,

Lay slain Cheviot within.

LVI

His hands the King did weal and wring,

235

Said, ‘Alas! and woe is me!

Such another captain Scotland within

I’ faith shall never be!’

LVII

Word is come to lovely London

To the fourth Harry, our King,

240

Lord Percy, lieutenant of the Marches,

Lay slain Cheviot within.

LVIII

‘God have mercy on his soul,’ said King Harry,

‘Good Lord, if thy will it be!

I’ve a hundred captains in England,’ he said,

245

‘As good as ever was he:

But Percy an I brook my life,

Thy death well quit shall be.’

LIX

And as our King made his avow

Like a noble prince of renown,

250

For Percy he did it well perform

After, on Homble-down;

Where six-and-thirty Scottish knights

On a day were beaten down;

Glendale glitter’d on their armour bright

255

Over castle, tower and town.

LXI

This was the Hunting of the Cheviot;

That e’er began this spurn!

Old men, that knowen the ground well,

Call it of Otterburn.

260

LXII

There was never a time on the Marche-partès

Since the Douglas and Percy met,

But ’tis marvel an the red blood run not

As the reane does in the street.

LXIII

Jesu Christ! our balès bete,

265

And to the bliss us bring!

This was the Hunting of the Cheviot:

God send us all good endìng!

GLOSS: maugre] despite. let] hinder. meinye] company. bicker’d] attacked, skirmished. bent] rough grass. wild] game, deer. shear] several. grevès] groves. glent] glanced, darted. mort] death of the deer. quarry] dead game. brittling] cutting up. boun’s] boundaries. gleed] live coal. bairn] fighting man. on a party] apart. fytte] division of a ballad. wouche] evil. tree] timber. doughty] doughty man. basnets] steel caps. manoplie] long gauntlet. stern] stern men, warriors. freyke] bold fellow. swapt] smote. swat] sweated. sprent] spurted. hight] promise. wane] host, multitude. dight] done, doomed. stint] stayed. blint] stopped. dint] stroke, lunge. halèd] pulled. stoure] press of battle. dree] endure. lee] fair, bright. hendè] courteous, gentle. makes] mates. carp] talk. weal] clench. brook] retain. Glendale] one of the six ‘wards’ of Northumberland. Homildon was here. spurn] fray (?). reane] gutter. balès] woes. bete] better, relieve.

CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

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